Action Comics: Starring Superman
by Scottenkainen
Summary: It's 1940 again, and the Golden Age Superman is fighting Nazis, the Ultra-Humanite, and worse threats, much in the style of Siegel and Shuster.
1. Chapter 1

" **The Chase"**

By Scott Casper  
Special thanks to Jerry Siegel for Action Comics #20 and Darci for "research"

 **January 10, 1940  
100 miles off the coast of California**

The seamount almost touched the surface of the Pacific Ocean. The mountain below was riddled with dry caves. Very few people knew of their existence. Very few people had the resources to get there. It should have been the perfect hideout. It was, until _he_ showed up.

A flickering torch cast deep shadows across the cavern and belched smoke that touched the ceiling. Voices echoed, especially his. It was deep and powerful. "But I saw you die, myself!"

"My assistants, finding my body, revived me with adrenalin," explained the beautiful brunette. "However, it was clear that my recovery could be only temporary. And so, following my instructions, they kidnapped Delores Winters yesterday and placed my mighty brain in her young vital body!"

"It appears that we're deadlocked." Superman's voice was hard and determined.

"Either you leave, or I'll scorch the captives, at once!" Delores's voice echoed, filled with hate and malice.

Superman stood a full ten feet from the former actress. She crouched in a fighting stance, his/her tall riding boots planted in the dust and the dirt of the cave floor. Superman watched passively, giving nothing away until he suddenly sucked in a deep lung full of air and then exhaled with such a blast that it snuffed the torch from where he stood.

"You blew it out!" Ultra-Humanite cried the obvious. He/she stared in disbelief as his/her only weapon was reduced to a charred stick in one hand.

"And here's where I end your fiendish career of crime!" Superman announced. Confidently, perhaps too confidently, he strode slowly towards Ultra-Humanite.

"You'll have to catch me first!" Ultra-Humanite shouted as he/she turned and dived for a nearby pool of water. His/her diving form was perfect, slicing the water and disappearing from sight in an instant below the murky water.

The pool connected to a wider network of underwater tunnels that honeycombed the mountain. The malevolent mind inside Delores knew of them and how they had been prepared for just such a contingency as this. When Superman might become involved, there always had to be contingency plans. Ultra-Humanite groped blindly in the water for a moment until he/she lucked onto the floating cord, then grasped it tightly and followed it up to the top where a small box with a single button waited. He/she wrapped the cord around his/her wrist, pressed the button, and held on tight while the cord began to retract quickly and pulled him/her through the water with it. The cord retracted into the mouth of a plastic tube attached to the cave tunnel wall and continued to retract. It pulled Ultra-Humanite along with it at such a speed that he/she would have been dashed to pieces on the walls of the twisting tunnel had it not been for the protective plastic tubing.

What Ultra-Humanite could not have heard was Superman shout, "You won't get away this time!" as he dove into the pool after his enemy. The water was less murky to his eyes and he immediately spotted Ultra-Humanite being pulled into the plastic tube. Superman allowed his quarry another moment of head start as he rose to the surface and took a deep breath before diving down to the tunnel with the tube flowing through it. He resisted the urge to follow directly into the tube, in case it was booby trapped, and chose to follow the tube through the wider tunnel instead. The dragging weight of his red cape and boots were negligible to his fantastic strength, and he swam with such speed that he would have overtaken him/her easily had he not been wrong about the safety of the tunnel.

When he struck the first mine, it detonated on contact. Superman pushed himself back, taking most of the bruising impact from the explosion in his hands. But worse, the explosion caused the tunnel to collapse around him. Superman did not need much light to see by, but down here in the tunnel it was total darkness. He could not see how extensive the cave-in was or if there was still a way through. If he was able to brace himself, he might be able to lift 28 tons – 30 at the utmost, which might not be enough. For one startling moment, Superman had the scary thought that he might die alone down here, in the dark, buried underwater. Even he could not hold his breath forever.

But the moment passed. If there was one thing Superman always knew he could rely on, it was his strength. So he braced himself against the cavern floor and began to lift. It turned out not to be as bad as he had feared; it had been only a partial cave-in. The tons of rock yielded to his efforts to shift them and he could feel the way clear ahead. Superman swam clear of the wreckage, but slowed his pace through the rest of the tunnel, feeling his way in front of him cautiously.

Well up ahead, the emergency zip line dragged Ultra out of the water and up onto the dry dock of the underwater submarine bay on the opposite side of the mountain. He/she had run out of air three seconds earlier and now lay prone on the dock, vomiting water. As soon as Ultra felt well enough to lift his/her head, he/she took stock of the surroundings. Three of the men on the dock were Americans loyal to her, while two were Japanese sailors belonging to the _Kaidai_ -class submarine of the Imperial Japanese Navy berthed there. The wooden dock and the small barracks for her guards looked tiny next to the 1,400-ton sub. Overhead lights mounted on the roof of the cavern reflected off the designation 'I-68' on the side of its hull.

"You!" Ultra shouted, pointing at one of the Japanese sailors as soon as he/she felt able to speak again. "Tell Commander Muraoka to launch at once!" Ultra struggled to lift his-/herself up against the weight of Delores' waterlogged clothes. "He is not to wait for anyone but me to board! This is an emergency evacuation!"

None of the men on the dock moved to assist Ultra. Any instinct to help a beautiful woman in distress was suppressed by the knowledge of the cold and cruel mind in her body. Only one dared to even speak up in his/her presence. "What about us?" he asked.

Ultra glared a terrible stare at the man. He/she would have shot him on the spot for his impertinence but there was no time. "A man is going to be coming out of that tunnel any second now," he/she explained, pointing to the mostly-submerged cave mouth at the rear of the cavern. "Kill him." Without explaining further, Ultra ran for the submarine just as the last Japanese sailor went aboard. Ultra climbed in and took one last look at his/her men before shutting the hatch. Each man he/she left behind was armed with a sub-machine gun loaded with armor-piercing rounds. That might be enough to buy him/her a few more precious seconds from Superman.

"This way," one of the sailors ordered Ultra, as he/she came down the ladder from the hatch. The small man waved a _Nambu_ semi-automatic in Ultra's direction as a not-too subtle threat.

Ultra ignored the man for now. He/she could feel the sub moving as it got underway. Ultra stooped, entered the next compartment over on the sub and found him-/herself in the control room facing Lieutenant Commander Muraoka. "Commander," Ultra said in perfect Japanese, "you will need to reach maximum speed at once and then be prepared to dive deeper. Superman is after us. You will not be able to outdistance him, but we might be able to reach a pressure too great for him to follow us."

"You presume too much," Commander Muraoka retorted, aware that an American woman had just told him what to do in front of some of his crew.

"You understand too little," retorted Ultra, switching back to English. "You haven't faced Superman and I have."

Then understanding flooded him/her. The little man had his back up and would not yield to her. _Curse the luck_ , he/she thought, _this female body won't help me with the Japanese. Their gender politics is still stuck in the Edo period!_ Switching back to Japanese, he/she attempted to backpedal. "Our mission for the Emperor will be for naught if he reaches us! You must get us away!" she pleaded.

"There is no 'our mission'," the Commander retorted, drawing himself up ramrod-straight (an unwise reaction in the cramped quarters of a submarine). "My mission is to observe and report if you can be of any use to the Empire. Now you have jeopardized us both. From now on, do as you are told!" He turned and began issuing orders to his XO.

Delores' face tightened into what would have been an ugly grimace on Ultra's old face, but only made him/her look more sultry now. Inwardly, Ultra's mind was disgusted by his own failure to anticipate that the body of Delores Winters could be as big a handicap as his old wheelchair. Mentally vowing to include this in his/her calculations from now on, Ultra removed him-/herself to an inconspicuous corner of the control room.

Back in the underwater tunnel, Superman managed to avoid touching any further mines. As he emerged from the water in the second sea cave, Ultra's three henchmen opened fire with their submachine guns without waiting to see who was approaching. In the hands of these henchmen, the submachine guns substituted volumes of pistol-caliber bullets for both accuracy and skill. Indeed, had they waited until Superman was in short range or closer, the armor-piercing rounds might have had some effect. But the henchmen had panicked and fired too soon, giving them the impression that, when the bullets struck him at all and not the water, that Superman was truly invulnerable.

"Throw down your guns and surrender," ordered the Man of Steel as he leaped up onto the dry dock. When they refused to listen he began picking up large wooden crates scattered randomly on the dock and heaving them in the direction of the henchmen. As the crates piled up, the henchmen found themselves with less room to dodge. The available space left made the dock seemed narrower and narrower until the henchmen had no room left to dodge but to jump off the dock into the water. "Game, set and match," Superman joked when he was done.

Walking over to one side of the dock, Superman fished around in the water a moment and then lifted one of Ultra's men up by the collar. Holding him at arm's length, he disarmed the gunman and crushed the end of the barrel to render it unusable. Superman dropped the man back in the water and sought out the other two to disarm them as well. When he was done, he looked down at the criminals at his feet, thrashing about in their own puddles like caught fish, and addressed them. "The first one who tells me where Ultra went gets out. You other two will have to find your own way up."

He didn't have to wait long for an answer. Three "I'll tell you" replies came up, mingled with "Get me out!" and "Get off me!" please. Superman picked out one at random and lifted him up with one hand off the dock. "So give…"

"That way," the ruffian pointed. His arm pointed toward the empty dry dock on the other side of the cave. "They high-tailed it out of here and left us behind! They've got a sub, but we're stuck!"

Superman refocused his vision beyond the dry dock and took in the underwater tunnel to the open sea. This time he looked carefully to see if this exit, too, was mined, but saw none.

Too easy, was Superman's first thought. Turning his attention back to the dry dock, he noticed some wires from the gates going down into some chambers dug into the rock. Swiftly investigating, he found the wires led down through a crack to a timing mechanism. "It's a bomb!" he shouted as he realized its purpose. He rushed across the cave and seized the wires, pulling them free. "No good!" he added, as the timer continued to run. Seizing a piece of steel used as a boom for a small crane, he broke it free and drove it down into the rock, following the drill hole for the wires. Then he braced his legs and used the steel to lever open the rock. Once the opening was large enough he picked up the steel boom and drove it directly into the timer.

"It's OK, I stopped it," Superman shouted back to the three men. In the excitement, he hadn't had time to watch if the stool pigeon had aided his fellows or if the two men in the water had climbed out on their own. Apparently the cave had no other exit, since none of them had made any effort to escape once they'd gotten out of the water. They just stood there, like the half-drowned rats they were.

"I'm going after Ultra," Superman told them. "I have to come back for the hostages. When I do, I'll get you out of here too." He executed a perfect dive into the seawater that now filled the dry dock and began swimming after the sub. When he reached the tunnel, he took a last, deep breath and swam out the exit to the open sea. When he reached the other end, he surfaced and gratefully breathed in the fresh air. He pivoted in the water, looking for a sign of the submarine on the surface. There was none. He again used his extraordinary vision to look for the vessel, and spotted it a mile away and over a hundred feet below the surface, still diving. He dove after them.

Ultra listened as the hydrophone technician aboard the I-68 was interrogated about anything following them. "It must be a dolphin," the man reported. "It is too small to be a vessel, and it is alone."

"No," Ultra said quietly in the corner. "It's him. He's coming."

"It must be that American _choujin_ ," declared the Commander. "Dolphins always travel in pods. Ready aft torpedoes 5 and 6!"

"Ready torpedoes 5 and 6!" repeated the XO into the shipboard intercom. Through the rear access hatch to the control room they could hear crewmen using chain lifts in the electric motor room to transfer two of the Type 89 torpedoes to the aft tubes.

"Range?" called the XO to the hydrophone technician. Unnoticed, Ultra emerged from his/her corner and moved to stand next to the Commander.

"800 meters and closing!" replied the technician.

"Set 5 for 750 meters and 6 for 775 meters!" commanded the XO. Then they heard the sounds of two hatches being slammed shut and clamped.

"5 and 6 ready!" came back the reply from the torpedo men.

"Shoot 5 and 6!" ordered the Commander. The XO pressed two pushbuttons overhead. They heard the sound of the compressed air charge in the tubes force the two missiles out, then the kerosene engines fired and the torpedoes' propellers churned the water.

"5 and 6 away!" reported the XO to the Commander.

"Reload!" replied the Commander. As the crew executed his orders, he listened for the sound of the torpedoes exploding. The hydrophone technician took the headphones off, knowing that the explosion would deafen him otherwise. "29…30…31…32" the Commander counted off the seconds under his breath. The first torpedo exploded. "33…34" the Commander kept counting. The second torpedo exploded. "Report!" he ordered the hydrophone technician.

The technician hurriedly replaced his headphones and listened intently. Everyone in the control room seemed to focus their attention on him. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he wiped it away impatiently.

"Still following us, sir," he replied in Japanese. "750 meters and closing!"

"Set 5 for 700 meters and 6 for 750 meters!" the Commander instructed the XO. "Shoot when ready!"

"Set 5 for 700 meters and 6 for 750 meters!" the XO repeated into the intercom.

Again they heard the torpedoes tubes' hatches slammed shut. "5 and 6 ready!" came the reply from the torpedo men. The XO pressed the two overhead buttons again. The twin engines of destruction departed with a whoosh. The hydrophone technician again removed his headphones and listened with the others.

"29…30…"counted off the Commander. The third torpedo exploded. "31…32" continued the Commander. The fourth torpedo exploded. "Report!" he ordered.

"Still following, sir," the technician replied. "700 meters…and still closing." He continued.

"Come about," ordered the Commander. "We have 8 more torpedoes in the bow. Nothing could survive them!"

"I've had enough of this!" exclaimed Ultra. He/she snatched the Commander's Nambu pistol from his holster and clubbed him on the head with it. As he fell unconscious to the deck, he/she leveled the pistol at the XO. "I'm taking command!" she told him in Japanese. "Belay that last order! Our only chance is to out-dive Superman. His lungs can't last forever!"

He/she looked warily around the cabin, making sure no one had the idea to jump him/her from behind. "What's our depth?" she barked at the pilot.

"60 meters," replied the pilot.

"Maintain speed and inclination," he/she ordered. "He's already held his breath for over three minutes. If his lungs hold out, he'll still have to deal with the pressure this deep."

"You're endangering the ship," observed the XO as he began to ease slowly toward Ultra. "No submarine of this type has been tested below 80 meters. Surrender peacefully, and we will surface and negotiate with this Superman. If he refuses to deal with us, we still have 8 torpedoes and 1000 rounds for the deck gun. But I think," he paused and then added, "he only wants you."

"I don't surrender to anyone!" screamed the Ultra-Humanite, and shot him in the face, twice. He/she turned the gun back on the Commander. "Keep diving!"

Once again the Ultra-Humanite was in a stalemate. If the crew decided to mutiny, he/she only had six more rounds in the pistol. If they didn't kill him/her themselves, they'd turn him/her over to Superman to save their own skins. Superman would be on them in a few minutes, and the wretched fool just might have enough breath and strength to force them to the surface. There had to be another way. If Ultra had to die, he would take that wretched Superman with him! "Depth!" Ultra shouted in Japanese.

"137 meters," the report came back. The sub may have been hijacked, but its crew was disciplined enough to still perform their duties. No one dared mention that the sub was well past its depth threshold, nor did they need to. They could all hear the hull of the sub creaking and groaning under the pressure.

When the knocking sound came, they all assumed at first that it was the hull buckling. But as it continued rhythmically, it became clear that someone was actually knocking on the hull as if it was a door.

"No…Impossible…" Ultra said, though he/she knew it was not so. No one human could have followed them this deep, but Superman had demonstrated time and time again that he was not human.

Superman leisurely followed the sub as it reversed and headed toward the surface. He followed and, an hour after the chase had begun, climbed onto the surface of the sub and boarded the vessel. Japanese crewmen were streaming out of the forward conning tower and the rear hatches. Over sixty men stood on the deck, choking and fanning themselves. "Does anyone speak English?" he asked.

"I do," replied one of the Japanese officers between coughs.

"What happened?" asked Superman.

"We were hijacked by a madwoman!" replied the officer. "She held the Commander hostage and killed our executive officer. When it was obvious her plan had failed, she shot the batteries with the rounds remaining in her pistol. The battery acid, when mixed with sea water, released chlorine gas.

She tried to kill us all! After she passed out, we were able to surface!"

"This woman, what did she look like?" queried Superman. It must have been the Ultra-Humanite, but he had to be sure.

"She was slim, with dark hair. She was dressed in a red top, green pants and brown boots. She spoke perfect Japanese," replied the officer.

Superman dove down the conning tower hatch and searched the ship. As the Japanese had claimed, the submarine was flooded with toxic chlorine gas. He held his breath and searched, but after repeated attempts he had to admit that the Ultra-Humanite was not inside the ship. Meanwhile, the ship's fans exhausted the chlorine gas and replaced it with fresh air.

When Superman gave up the search, Commander Muraoka had regained consciousness. "I'm sorry this happened to you," Superman told him. "The person who did this does not represent the United States or any of its citizens. We consider the Ultra-Humanite a threat to every civilized nation." _Though I do wonder about a Japanese Imperial Navy installation so close to the U. S. mainland_ , he thought.

"We regret we were not able to capture her ourselves," the Commander replied. "If you have no further questions for us, we would like to get under way. This is going to be difficult to explain to our homeland, as I am sure it will be difficult for you to explain to your people."

"By all means," replied Superman. "Thank you for your understanding." He turned and leaped off the deck, beginning the swim back to the hostages in the underwater cavern.

The Ultra-Humanite, dressed in the XO's clothes, emerged from the crowd of men, the Commander's pistol still pointed at him. "Well done," she commended him in Japanese. "You dissemble quite well. I foresee a long career for you in the military!"

"I do not share that opinion," replied the Commander. "I expect to be relieved of duty as soon as the Imperial Navy learns of this." He shook his head resignedly. "Are we free of you, _majyo_?"

"Oh, I am so, so much more than a witch," replied Ultra. "And I am so far from being done with Superman. He will pay for the indignities he has heaped on me, if it is the last thing I ever do."

 **Next** : In _Golden Age Action Comics #6_ : It's the next round of Superman vs. Ultra-Humanite in "To Save Delores Winters"!


	2. Chapter 2

" **To Save Delores Winters"**

By Scott Casper  
Special thanks to Jerry Siegel for Action Comics #13 and 21 and Darci for "research"

 **February 18, 1940  
The Journal of Terry Curtis**

 _I dedicate this journal to the man I know only by the sobriquet of Superman, my personal savior from a madman's ambitions, as well as the very one to suggest that I start keeping a journal._

 _It has taken me three days to get settled into Mexico City for this extended vacation. The hotel has a dearth of amenities, but the manager was suitably apologetic about the cockroach in the bathtub. I have seen cleaner, but I dare suppose I have seen dirtier. Nothing a trip to the market for a jug of bleach couldn't fix._

 _My second purchase was a new camera. I have been to El Zócalo, Monumento a la Independencia and Templo Mayor so far and used up a roll of film at each. Tomorrow, Catedral Metropolitana…_

 **February 19, 1940  
Outside Cleveland, Ohio**

Superman had not slept well. Not that he needed to, but he did prefer getting four hours of sleep a night to relax his mind. Last night he had tossed and turned, unable to take his mind off of what vexed him. The Ultra-Humanite – what he had done – troubled Superman deeply and made him restless. That was partly why, this Monday morning when he should have been Clark Kent and working on a story for the _Daily Star_ , he was out here, in the woods in the rural outskirts of Cleveland, visiting a fire-damaged cabin. It was, of course, no ordinary cabin. It had been the lair of the Ultra-Humanite during his protection racket plot, the Cab Protective League.

Superman paused at the blackened door, still ajar. He touched the doorframe and some of the charred wood crumbled. His thoughts strayed to how far from these environs he had been, how far he had come from his early days of just planning on making Cleveland a better place. He had, in just the last few years, strayed to Ghana to raise funds for Kidtown in the gold mines there, Spain to meddle in the civil war there and, most recently, Ecuador in a thwarted attempt to finally bring the Ultra-Humanite to justice.* He had no regrets, as each had been a good choice. But…if he had stayed here, kept a better watch on Cleveland…would he have known that Ultra's henchmen had spirited away the villain's body for that horrible brain-switching operation? That was what he was determined to find out – if the clues had been here all along.

(*Only one of these is an untold tale. Can you guess which one? ~Scott)

He pushed the door open and saw the remains of the furniture inside and the stairs leading up to the upper level. He did not need to go upstairs for a look around, as riddled with holes as the ceiling was. There was similar damage to the floor that required him to tread lightly, though there appeared to be only a narrow hollow space under most of the floorboards. Superman knew this was not true under the entire cabin, as he recalled Ultra's saw trap that had popped up from under the floor before. With concentration, he pushed his vision out of the visible spectrum into infrared and ultraviolet. He used this now to scan the room, looking for the secret door he knew was there, or any further traps.

With a gentle shove on the right section of back wall, Superman was able to push in the secret door and reveal the backroom laboratory of Ultra-Humanite, or what was left of it. Most of the room's contents had been wood and were now charred beyond recognition of their original functions, but two metal cabinets by the secret door remained mostly intact. The drawers were locked, but that was a laughable obstacle for Superman. He casually popped each lock and rifled through the contents of the drawers. There were papers inside, but they were blackened with soot from the fire.

Superman was blowing the soot off of the paper when his keen ears heard a trapdoor opening in the floor of the room. Turning for a look, he saw what looked like a seven-foot tall, boxy robot coming up on a rising platform. Two 'eyes' shone like headlights from its oval-shaped head and it raised its segmented, overly long arms as it emerged from its secret elevator.

"Oh, left a toy for me to play with, did he?" Superman joked to himself as he stepped up to see what this robot could do.

It demonstrated by stepping forward and snapping its arm down like a whip, its fist striking Superman's head like a hammer. All it did was muss up Superman's hair.

"Once I dispose of you, I'm going to see what else Ultra left under this building!" Superman said for no particular reason other than, again, for his own amusement. A nozzle extended from its left palm, there was a hiss of escaping gas, an audible click and then a jet of flame was about to erupt. Superman could not risk the papers he had found, so he clasped his hands over the nozzle of the flame-thrower and held the flames back. He felt his hands grow uncomfortably warm before he pinched the nozzle closed. He seized the robot around its middle and lifted it off the ground. The machine kept thrashing at him with its arms, but to Superman it was like a game of patty-cake that had gotten out of control. He continued squeezing until he heard parts grinding inside, and then watched the robot's arms come to a halt. The lights shining from its eyes winked out. He dropped it and watched it topple over and collapse on the floor.

Stepping over to the platform where the robot had come from, he grasped it by one edge, then ripped it off the elevating mechanism underneath. The lift was visible by the light coming down from the lab, but whatever else existed below was hidden in darkness. Superman spied a few small red and yellow lights glowing on a metallic surface to one side, so he thought the building still had some power supply underground. He bent a few metal pieces aside to make his way down through the lift mechanism. A squint appeared around his eyes as he shifted to infrared vision. That revealed that there were many pieces of equipment still operating in the basement. The room measured 10 by 15 feet, with a single doorway in a position directly under the inside door of the lab upstairs. The space was packed with more infernal devices. Superman's infrared vision showed them glowing from within, so they were all still powered up. He picked his way through, heading for the panel of glowing lights.

When Superman reached the panel, he noted that one of the lights was modulating in a pattern that matched the amplitude variations of human speech. Below the light was a metal post, on which hung a telephone receiver with a three-foot loop of cable. He lifted the receiver and heard the voice of Dolores Winters. The voice was Miss Winters', but the words were the Ultra-Humanite's. Superman could feel his anger rising as he was freshly reminded of his crusade to stop the villain and restore the life he'd stolen.

"—survival was never in question!" he heard the villain snidely reply to some question. "Unfortunately the plans for Curtis's atomic disintegrator were lost when Superman destroyed my city, and the muscle-bound oaf took Curtis with him. My agents have located him." There were several seconds of relative silence as the other party interrupted (that part of the conversation was not on the same circuit), then Ultra continued. "No, not Superman, you idiot! Curtis! Curtis is hiding in Mexico City. I have a team looking for a Curtis lookalike. When they find one, they'll substitute him for Curtis, blow up the building where he's staying and bring Curtis to me. Superman, and anyone else who investigates, will believe Curtis is dead and we'll be able to work on him undisturbed. In the meantime, another team is maintaining continual surveillance of Curtis. No one can speak to him, in person or on the telephone, without me knowing every word..."

Superman had heard enough. He hung up the receiver. Before he returned to the filing cabinet upstairs, he walked to the door and opened it. The door creaked on its hinges as it opened. The room on the other side did not contain any sources of infrared, making it as black as if he was using normal vision. He'd have to return with a flashlight or lantern later. He retraced his steps and leaped back up to the ground floor. Returning to the files, he went through them rapidly but carefully, wary of damaging the paper further. After 20 minutes and most of the drawers of the cabinet, he found what he was searching for: the brain transplant surgery Ultra had used to steal Delores's body. He wrapped the papers in his cape and folded it into a secure package, tucked it under his arm and began the journey back to his apartment.

Before he started studying the papers in detail, he phoned George Taylor to report he'd confirmed that the Ultra-Humanite was still alive. "Spike it, George," he wheedled the editor. "That story is still developing. I just wanted you to know you're getting your money's worth."

"Don't worry about it, Kent. Just be sure we get the story first," replied the older man. "Did you get this from Superman?"

"No, but I know he knows Ultra is alive. Look, I have to go. I'll call when I can." Clark terminated the call.

 **February 19, 1940  
The Journal of Terry Curtis**

 _Filled another roll of film today. I have not found someone to develop them for me yet. I wonder if I could set up my own darkroom here? I suppose it would be a poor substitute, but I miss my lab back home and need somewhere to putter. Perhaps I could work on a more efficient formula for developing solution…_

 _I had a long-distance call from Superman today! It was nice of him to check on me and to share what progress he's made in bringing U to justice. Apparently he found all sorts of notes about U's brain transplant surgery. Fascinating stuff; I talked him through the notes for some time. U had apparently funded thousands of animal experiments; blackmailed surgeons, anesthesiologists and nurses; and even had taken control of a small hospital. The mechanical details of the transplant are not too different from a kidney's, but U had solved the two other problems with post-surgical survival. The blood-brain barrier actually made the problem of rejection easier to solve than it would be for other organs. Thoroughly flushing the brain with a chilled blood substitute prior to inserting it into the skull defeated the remainder of the immune system. The other problem was solved by a technique right out of one of Universal Studio's Frankenstein films: electrical stimulation of the cut nerves stimulated them to re-grow their connections to their neighbors._

 _U had forced his surgical team to perform dozens of transplants to prove he would be in no danger. The subjects were kidnap victims who would not be missed, and had been housed in a former mental ward to monitor their long-term recovery. Superman suspected the surgical team were little more than prisoners at the same facility, kept hostage to prevent the world from learning what had been done but too valuable to dispose of. He suspected the facility was in southern California, somewhere near Los Angeles. It must also have its own cemetery, we concluded._

 _This is how that fiend managed to possess the beautiful form of Delores Winters. I agree with Superman that taking another person's body for your own must be the worst form of rape ever invented. I hope Superman catches him!_

 **February 20, 1940  
Los Angeles, California**

After an all-night cross-country run, Superman was in Los Angeles by 8 AM and, after changing to Clark Kent, arrived at the office of the _Daily News_ on S. Los Angeles Street. He walked up the three floors to the city room and waited at the desk of Carol Tiegs, science reporter. While Clark was waiting he walked down the hallway to the UP offices and said hello. When he got back, Carol was seated at her desk, looking over the competing morning papers. Clark introduced himself and explained some of the leads he was following that pointed to a medical facility disappearing off everyone's radar in the past few years. Carol had an immediate suggestion. "Our Lady of the Snows was closed several years ago. It was a sanitarium for TB patients north of here, in the Tehachapi Mountains." The mailing address was a little town named Keene.

"How far away is that?" asked Clark.

"One hundred-thirty miles," replied Carol. "Now I have a question. If there's a Superman story, it's always with a byline from Lois Lane or you. Is Superman here, on this case?"

"Well," replied Clark hesitantly, "I can't say for sure. I suspect he is, but no one has spotted Superman in the area…"

"I'd know if he had," confirmed Carol, with a nod. "I think I'd better check where Lois is right now."

"Good idea," Clark laughed. "Thanks for the lead. I won't take up more of your time…"

"Check back with me on your way back," urged Carol, turning her attention to the pile of rewrites waiting for her on the desk. "I'd go myself if I could spare the time. I haven't had a good science story since Terry Curtis disappeared."

The sanitarium proved to be a solid lead. It had been abandoned since Ultra used it, but specialized surgical tools had been left behind that would have had to have been specially ordered. It had taken the better part of a day to make enough calls to surgical tool suppliers around the country before Superman had found an order for those tools. The delivery had been made from a warehouse, also in Los Angeles. Superman's only hope now was some clue had been left behind at the warehouse.

The warehouse was surrounded by tenement housing and the warehouse now appeared to be closed for business permanently. The doors and windows of the warehouse were boarded up already, a suspicious state of affairs given how recent the transaction to the sanitarium had been. Luckily, wood was never a barrier to Superman. This time, though, he carefully pulled the boards out, nails and all, so he could place them back in case this had been a false lead.

There was a terrible odor of rot coming from inside, with an air of chlorine too. It was dark, so Superman pushed his vision past normal limits again. The interior was mostly gutted. There were no more than a few crates littered about, so he spotted them quickly – six dead bodies stretched out on the floor. Superman raced to the nearest one and crouched down to check, but they were very clearly dead, probably two months dead. Flies buzzed around their discolored skin. They were well-dressed men, most wearing glasses, and it appeared that they had all died choking. Ultra's assistants? Lured here with a promise of payment and then gassed?

"Likely," Superman mused out aloud, "but how was it administered?"

It was then that his keen ears detected the sound of gas hissing, a moment before Superman saw the largest crate in the room explode. A robot, similar in design to the one at the cabin, popped up out of it with the sound of some heavy clanging and more hissing gas. The gas was visible, even to normal vision, as a greenish mist – the obvious source of the earlier detected chlorine.

The robot ratcheted back an arm to swing at Superman as he advanced on it, but Superman was faster and punched a hole right through the robot's chest. He reached around inside, found a vacuum tube with his fingers, and crushed it. The robot slumped back and fell over, rendered inert, but then Superman heard something inside the robot suspiciously click.

Superman's gut instincts told him to get away. He started to leap backwards just as the robot exploded. Superman was blown back into the far wall of the warehouse hard enough to leave an impression in the concrete. Shrapnel had scratched his near-impenetrable skin and tore his costume. The warehouse was cracked wide open, its windows blasted out and a large section of the floor just plain missing. Pieces of the robot were now scattered all over. Pulverized concrete dust filled the air like a giant snow globe.

"I'll have to be more careful about that," Superman reminded himself as he dropped to the floor, dusted himself off, and returned to the front door to put it back in place.

 **February 23, 1940  
The Journal of Terry Curtis **

_I have inserted a few pages of notes on the new camera I want to design. I'll have to check on patents when I get back home. Very exciting! I also received another call from Superman. I hope he can save Delores Winters after all. He found a warehouse in Los Angeles where the assistants who did the surgery stored equipment and he found a preserved brain. Superman wanted to know if I thought it could be Delores' real brain, if the assistants might have kept it. I said it was certainly possible. Actually, I think I said, "Anything is possible for science". I hope Superman didn't think that sounded too cheesy._

 _The warehouse in Los Angeles was destroyed in an explosion, but Superman has asked me to leave Mexico and come back to see a lab he has set up back in Cleveland. Maybe together we can figure out how to restore the brain if we can get the body back. Superman even talked to me about reversing my disintegrator to recreate Delores as she was. I would have told anyone else that was complete fantasy, but if Superman says something, it seems eminently achievable. All so exciting! I think I owe Superman now, not just my life, but getting my love of science back too._

 **February 25, 1940  
Cleveland, Ohio**

As Clark Kent, Superman had spent the better part of two days fulfilling his obligations to the _Daily Star_ , while on his off-time quietly renting an empty warehouse under another alias. He had purchased a table and some pharmaceutical supplies and set them up and even had some parts for a cyclotron on order.

Superman had read every book on science in the Cleveland Public Library after first meeting the Ultra-Humanite and, while he did not understand everything in Ultra's notes, he was now no slouch on the subjects of biology, chemistry and even electrical engineering. And it really was nice to have something new and challenging to do in his downtime.

He had just taken a model of a human brain out of a box and walked it past the remains of the last two robots he had found in Ultra's lairs when he heard a voice.

"Did I not make clear the nature of our rivalry on our past encounters?" a familiar woman's voice spoke loudly with a cruel, evil tone. It seemed to echo from everywhere in the warehouse.

Superman put down the model on the table without showing any alarm. "Where are you broadcasting from? I searched this warehouse from top to bottom."

"I am the brain. You are brawn. I do not lift cars, you do not dabble in science," Ultra continued with Delores Winters' voice. "Do you have the brain?"

"I thought you just said I don't have the brain," Superman said with a smirk. "But if you're so smart, why didn't you figure out why I suggested the journal to Terry Curtis? Because I knew you'd be watching him after the atomic disintegrator fiasco and I wanted a way to feed you information to lure you into a trap."

"Who's trapped who?" Ultra asked. "I have you right where I want you, in an inhabited neighborhood. If you have Delores Winters' brain, I will stop destroying buildings as soon as you hand it over. And if you don't have it–"

Superman did not bother to listen to the rest of the threat. His super-hearing had isolated the voice and it was somehow being 'thrown' electronically from outside. He took a running start, blocked his face with his arm and crashed right through the warehouse wall to get outside faster.

Once outside, Superman could see the black autogyro hovering over the warehouse. In an instant it was already shining bright lights on him and obscuring his view of the windshield. A rocket launcher, which looked big enough to house four rockets, was mounted under the autogyro. It swiveled and fired its first rocket.

Superman leaped into the air high enough to catch the rocket in mid-air, but the launcher was still swiveling and fired a second rocket in another direction. Superman was off-balance for throwing the first rocket at the second and had to wait until he landed on a nearby rooftop to orient himself and throw the rocket at the rocket. It was a perfect shot, but a close enough call that the double-rocket explosion shattered every window in a four-story tenement building.

The launcher was not slowing down, though, and had already fired its third rocket in the complete opposite direction of the first rocket. Superman took a two-step running start that included bending down to scoop up a brick. He took off in a giant arc, leaping directly over the autogyro. He could see the third rocket was about to hit its target and there was no stopping it, so he threw his brick straight down into the path of the autogyro's rotor blades. He heard a blade snap from the impact behind him and at least had the satisfaction of knowing the autogyro would not still be in the air when he had time to deal with it.

Superman angled his descent lower towards the explosion that ripped through the third floor of a tenement building as the third rocket hit ahead of him. He gripped the sides of the hole to slow his descent and came for a landing just inside with two handfuls of wall. He would risk the inferno if there was anyone to save directly inside, but whatever room and its contents had been in here were already gone.

Superman dropped back out of the hole and fell to the street below where he looked for a fire hydrant and spotted one across the street and two doors down. It would be difficult to angle it just right…but Superman glanced back and forth with furrowed brow, working out the angle and the distance. It seemed to be the fastest way. He tore the hydrant from its moorings with one hand and with his other hand angled the erupting stream of water down the street and towards the gaping hole. A lot of water was lost, spilling out into the street, but quite a lot drenched the interior of the building, right where he had calculated it would.

The tenement dwellers might still be in danger, but the autogyro or its pilot might still pose a threat as well and Superman had been too busy to see where it went down. Nor could he hear the autogyro over the geyser of water from the hydrant he ruined, the background noise of the city, and the din of people leaving their apartments inside the damaged building. He needed a higher perspective, so he crouched down and launched himself into a spectacular high jump of 500 feet. From up there, he was able to look down between the buildings and see each street – and there was the downed autogyro.

After angling his descent, Superman came down for a landing right in front of the autogyro. He was hoping to see Ultra trapped in the wreckage, fearing that the villain had sneaked away during the distraction with the rockets. But what he found instead was that the autogyro was twisted and mutilated as if from the inside out. There was no way Ultra could have done that. Some wreckage trailed away from the autogyro heading – straight back towards the warehouse Superman had left unguarded.

"Ultra!" Superman shouted as he charged through the open entrance where the door of the warehouse was torn from its hinges. Inside, a six-foot tall robot turned towards him, a television screen mounted in its chest and Delores Winters' black-and-white face visible on the screen.

"There's no brain here, Superman. You never had Delores' brain." The voice was coming from speakers built into the robot.

"You've never been so scared to confront me before, Ultra," Superman said as he walked slowly toward the waiting robot. "What was the matter? Afraid I was going to take your brain back out of her skull myself?"

"I'm simply too busy to bother with your silly traps directly. All you've done is make me angry. And aren't you worried I might take out my anger on your dear friend, Dr. Curtis?"

"You can pretend you're not scared, while broadcasting from a safe distance away, but we both know you're going to stay away from Terry now."

"Why?"

"Because you'll never know if I'm using him as bait in a trap for you. You're the one who called him my dear friend, not me. I've already baited a trap for you, using him once. I can do it again."

"Or I might just succeed in killing you this time," Ultra said as bolts of electricity lanced from the robot's hands and struck Superman. "I seem to recall you having a weakness to electricity…?"*

((As shown in Action Comics #13! ~Scott))

It did hurt, as a strong enough electrical charge always did, but Superman charged towards the source of the electricity instead of away from it anyway. Gritting his teeth, Superman grabbed both arms of the robot and ripped them right off. The electricity stopped flowing. "You didn't catch me by surprise this time. This time, I'm ready for you." And before he was done saying it, Superman had already pulled a row of bolts off each side of the flailing robot with his bare hands. He popped the now-loose outer casing off the robot's torso, reached inside, found the remote detonator and crushed it in his hands. "See? Use the same tricks too often and I figure them out, like you detonating your robots to destroy evidence. Suppose I'll find some clues in how it was made that will help me find you? It doesn't matter. I know you're out there, Ultra. Now it's just a matter of time until I find you."

The television screen on the robot had gone dead, but Ultra was still broadcasting over the robot's built-in speakers. Instead of having anything to say, though, Superman just heard Ultra growl like an animal before the sound went dead. Superman tossed the robot, now no more dangerous than an oversized paperweight, on the floor. He sighed and thought about how he could use a good night's rest.

 **Epilogue**

Superman stood alone on a roadside. The sky had a shade to it that looked like it was just after dusk or just before sunrise. The road stretched out to the horizon, but only in the direction Superman was facing. The road glowed with a light of its own, but behind him was no road at all, only darkness.

More disturbing still was that Superman had no recollection of how he had come here or where here was. It was just a place, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The road was glowing, maybe because it had been painted with phosphorescent paint? There must be answers, but his mind felt fuzzy and clouded and it was hard to think things through.

One thing Superman was sure of, though, was that he was being watched. He could not see anyone, but he felt the eyes on him somehow. He spun around again to see if he could catch someone hiding behind him, just out of his peripheral vision, but there was no one to see. Yet he felt the presence just the same, palpable and menacing.

"Who's there?" Superman tried to shout, but it came out of his mouth only as a whisper. He tried harder to project, to shout loud enough to be heard out to the horizon. "WHO—"

And then Superman realized he was awake and shouting "WHO" out loud. And that a moment before, he had been in bed asleep.

The clock said it was 2:24 in the morning, the day after defeating Ultra's robot in the warehouse. Superman felt an unfamiliar pain in his chest. It was somewhat like the jolt of electricity he had taken earlier from the robot. His pulse was quickened, as it had been during battle. His breathing was heavy, such as few exertions had ever made him do. It took a moment longer to piece it all together – he had felt afraid. It had been a nightmare. The first Superman had ever had in his entire life.

And _that_ made Superman really afraid…

 **Next** : In _Golden Age Action Comics #7_ : What is affecting Superman? More clues next time, as Lois and Clark travel to Poland as war correspondents and tangle with spies in merry ol' England! It's "The Dover Affair"!


	3. Chapter 3

" **The Dover Affair"**

By Scott Casper

 **March 23, 1940  
Whitfield, Derbyshire, England**

Civilian car production had shrunk dramatically in an England preparing for war, but there were plenty of used cars for sale and Wayne Colt had found them a 1933 Alvis Speed 20 to ride in cross-country. Wayne was an American, like Lois and Clark were, but drove on the opposite side of the car like he was born to it. Though Superman could have made the trip faster on foot, it was a pleasant experience seeing another country at a leisurely pace for once. So leisurely had their pace become that, today, instead of pressing on to Dover, the four traveling companions had stopped at a public house in the hamlet of Whitfield for something to eat. Wayne had excused himself to go phone ahead from a public telephone, leaving Clark and Lois to sit with Wayne's Russian wife, Zora, inside the pub called the Archer.

"To intrigue!" Lois Lane proposed as she lifted her mug of ale for a toast.

"Please, Lois," Zora said with just a hint of Russian accent, "I would feel more comfortable toasting your profession. To journalism?"

"I'm sorry," Lois said coyly. "I thought I was only referring to our purpose in Dover. Since you and your husband will only drop cryptic clues as to what that purpose is…"

"Cryptic? Why, Lois, we simply did not want to bore you with details."

"Oh, I love details, Zora. That's why I got into journalism…"

Superman smiled. Lois was unlikely to drag anything new out of Zora, but he admired how Lois kept creatively pestering her for more information. Of course, Wayne and Zora Colt had thoroughly underestimated Lois if they thought they could keep something from her without her wanting to find out what.

Posing, of course, as Clark Kent, Superman winced as he drank his ale. He was using it to play up his image of being a milquetoast unable to handle alcohol. The wince was real, but for the opposite reason – in reality, to Superman's constitution, this ale was as weak as a glass of water.

So Superman leaned back in his chair, enjoying a roast beef sandwich and the show of Lois and Zora's verbal swordplay. It was handy that Lois was so distracted by the Colts now, as it kept her eyes off him. Several times on the ocean voyage, Lois had looked at Clark clearly, without her usual avoidance and scorn, and there was sometimes a suspicious look in her eyes and a mouth left hanging open, as if she wanted to ask about the resemblance to Superman, but did not dare say anything so seemingly absurd out loud.

It did not matter to him what the Colts wanted them for; he trusted the Colts from their adventure in Opar after their unfortunate Spanish Civil War experience* and Superman needed the Colts – or at least their promised aid – in securing safe passage to Occupied Poland for Lois and him. Then he and Lois would not only have scooped most every newspaper in the U.S., but they would be able to send home much-needed reports of how bad the situation in Europe was becoming.

*Yes, another untold tale of Superman! ~Scott

Superman heard Wayne come back into the pub, but did not react until everyone else did when Wayne came up to their table. He tossed two pound notes down on the table. "Come on, we need to go."

Everyone noted the urgency in Wayne's voice and made ready to leave. They filed out of the pub and climbed into the Alvis that was waiting out front with its engine running. They were barely moving, though, when a car that had been parked on the curb behind them started up and pulled out onto the road. It did not seem overly suspicious until the Colts' car left town and the following car stayed right behind them.

"Is that car following us," Lois asked.

"That car is definitely following us," Nora said, glancing frequently at the rearview mirrors.

"Should we be concerned?" Superman asked, twisting around in is seat for a better look and acting concerned.

"Oh, stop squirming, Clark!" Lois complained with her usual contempt for Clark's apparent spinelessness.

"I'd guess not," Wayne said, still sounding nonchalant. "More likely they just want to see where we're going. No, hold on…" he said more seriously. "Hang on."

Their pursuers had just gunned the engine and swerved to try and pass the Colts' Alvis or at least pull up alongside it. Wayne gunned his engine too and swerved to block them. The two cars danced like this for a third of a mile with their pursuers hitting the brakes each time instead of risking a collision, but after that their pursuers grew more reckless. The next time Wayne blocked them, they rammed the Alvis hard enough that it almost pushed them off the road.

Now even Superman was concerned, but there was little he could do now that would not give away his true identity. While he had considered telling Lois, he did not trust the Colts enough yet with his secret – and certainly not whoever was ramming them from behind.

"Hold tight!" Wayne said, as their car was jostled so hard by a second hit that Lois was thrown against Superman, who pretended to be thrown against the car door. The Alvis skid across the shoulder of the road before Wayne could right it again and the pursuing car was coming up alongside them now.

Superman had already counted four occupants in the other car and had even heard snatches of German spoken between them over the roar of the two car engines. He had definitely heard the word 'gas' – and knew they did not mean petrol, as that word in German was benzin – and when he saw a long grenade launcher aimed at his window through the opposite car's open window he hoped they meant knockout gas and not something like mustard gas.

The launcher fired and the grenade crashed through the window next to Superman. He blocked shattered glass with one arm and snatched the grenade in mid-air with his free hand faster than anyone could see, but yelled "Ow!" and leaned forward as if the grenade had struck him and hurt him. Superman leaned low over the grenade and took a whiff of the escaping gas, relieved to smell chloroform-based gas and not something more deadly. He dropped the grenade, pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, and pretended to cough into it while he waited for Lois and the Colts to be incapacitated.

As Wayne slumped forward against the steering wheel, the car careened into a ditch off the side of the road. Superman slumped back in his seat and pretended to be unconscious as well, while listening to the other car stop and three of the men emerge from it.

"Open the doors and let the gas out," one of the men was saying in German. "Then pull them out and search them."

Superman knew he was not carrying anything of value, so that left the other three. And while he had every confidence in Lois' ability to come into possession of something dangerous, the Colts still seemed more likely to have whatever these men were looking for.

The doors of the Alvis were thrown open and the Germans began reaching in to pull people out. Superman's turn came, but Superman was watching them through squinted eyes. Faster than anyone would see, Superman reached up and delivered a nerve pinch to the German leaning over him. Abruptly, the German tumbled out of the car, asleep.

"There must be too much gas still in the back seat and that fool Franz breathed in too deep," one of the three remaining men said, this time in good English and only a trace of his German accent. "Take over for him, Heinrich."

Heinrich, the man who had already pulled Zora out of the car, reached in for Superman and got the same nerve pinch, but instead of falling out this one fell inward on top of Superman.

" _Was ist denn hier los_?" one of the two remaining Germans said, wondering what was going on. He came around the car and pulled Heinrich off of Superman with one hand, while holding a pistol out in his free hand. When Heinrich fell away, though, he could see that Superman was not only awake, but pointing a gun at him – the gun Superman had defly pulled out of Heinrich's shoulder holster as Heinrich fell against him.

"Keep that gun up where I can see it," Superman said, stepping out of the car. Keeping up the pretense that he was Clark Kent, Superman swiveled the gun around to cover both men still on their feet. Both men slowly raised their hands in surrender.

Looking around, Superman could see Dover Harbor still two miles away to the south, but around here there were just empty, wooded fields divvied up by low stone walls and a lone shack nearby.

"Head for that shack. Now," Superman commanded in forceful tones. The two Germans complied at once and Superman followed along behind them, though he chucked the pistol quietly into a shrub he passed along the way. Once they reached the shack and went in, one of the men noticed that Superman was not holding his gun anymore. He turned and moved to draw his own gun from a hip holster, but Superman tapped a knuckle to the man's chin and battered him unconscious with it. Still keeping up appearances, Superman made a big show of pretending to put a lot of follow-through into the punch.

The remaining German had time to pull his gun, but Superman swatted it out of his hand, grabbed the man by the shirt and pushed him up against the wall of the shack, being careful not to push him through it.

"You tell me exactly what you wanted from us," Superman commanded.

Four minutes later, the last German was still conscious, but lying on the floor of the shack, in his underwear, his mouth gagged with his own socks and his arms and legs tied up with his shirt and pants respectively.

Superman jogged back to the car, pushing his glasses back up as he jogged. Everyone was still unconscious. Superman knelt down over Wayne and searched his pockets quickly. There was a small address book in Wayne's inside jacket pocket and a slip of paper inside that with some random-seeming words written on it. This was what the German had been looking for. If it was code it was a good one and Superman needed a few minutes to crack it – minutes he did not have. Wayne and Zora, having been furthest in the car from the sleep gas grenade, were starting to come out of a deep sleep. Superman scooped up each of them, one at a time, placing Wayne in the front passenger seat, and then Zora and Lois in the back. Superman pushed the car back out of the ditch and up onto the road again. He was about to hop in and drive away when something startling happened.

Superman did a double take when he looked ahead down the road. The road no longer looked like gray asphalt; it looked shimmering white. He glanced back down the road in the opposite direction and it looked as black as night.

"My dream…" Superman said out loud, for it reminded him of the dream that was now a recurring dream about a bright road and a dark road, but never had he experienced a waking dream like this before. He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and looked again. All was back as it was before.

As much as he wanted answers about what was happening to him, it seemed none were forthcoming and he still wanted to be away from here when the others woke up. Superman climbed into the driver's seat and sped away just in time to hear Wayne moaning next to him.

"Huh…what happened?" Wayne managed to ask.

"I don't know," Superman lied, sounding like timid Clark Kent again. "I woke up and found those guys who had been trying to run us off the road were gone."

"How did we…?" Wayne started to ask, curious about the revised seating arrangement, but he forgot all about that when he checked his pockets. "My address book!" he cried. "It's gone!"

"They must have searched us while we were asleep," Superman lied again. "What was in it?"

"A message…a message I was supposed to deliver…"

"Oh, Wayne," Zora said, awake enough now to engage in the conversation. "Are you sure?"

"Look, maybe it's time you two told us what's going on…" Superman said.

Wayne hemmed and hawed.

"Just tell them," Zora said. "They deserve to know."

"All right," Wayne said, sounding defeated. "There's someone we needed to meet in Dover and give a message to. It's important for the war effort. But Zora and I knew that enemy agents were onto us and looking for a couple traveling alone. That's why we invited you two along – and it was working too! Threw them off our trail for most of the trip here…"

The road was heading into Dover proper now. Dover Castle could be seen towering over the streets of crowded, but short, tenements.

"I think you should still meet with …whoever this is," Superman said. "Maybe it will still work out."

"Clark," Zora said, putting a hand up on his shoulder, "if you'd be so good as to find a hotel, I think it would be safer for you and Lois there."

"Oh no you don't," Lois said, no longer pretending to be asleep. "I haven't come this far just to be shoved aside and miss a story."

Wayne was about to say something when Superman spoke over him. "It seems to me, if there are other agents in Dover, they will be watching hotels for a couple checking in. It would make more sense to keep us with you, so no one can learn your whereabouts from us."

Wayne silently mulled it over this time before saying, "All right," with a defeated air.

If the Colts were upset to have company, it did not show as the four of them leisurely toured Dover together throughout the afternoon. After a long stop in the Dover Museum, they found an inn not far from Market Square where they could enjoy a dinner. Superman noticed how Zora was supposed to keep them distracted with chatter while Wayne sat with his back to the wall, watching the rest of the restaurant. Zora had them talking about politics back home until 8:30, when Wayne looked at his watch and said, "It's time."

After exiting the inn, the four of them piled back into their car and drove down to the port in the harbor. The harbor was full of ships, anchored in rows like barricades to protect the port, while the port itself was relatively empty and very quiet.

Wayne parked in front of a row of warehouses and turned off the car. He looked at Zora, who nodded back. Then Wayne turned around and took his time making eye contact with both Lois and Superman. "Stay in the car," he told them. Wayne exited the car, looked around, and made a motion to Zora who exited the car and came after him as they strolled casually past the first warehouse. They disappeared down an alley behind the second warehouse.

Lois opened her car door.

"Where are you going?" Superman asked.

"I'm following them," Lois said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And then she did.

Superman looked concerned, only until Lois was out of the car and walking away. Then he smiled and murmured, "It's about time…" to himself as he pulled off his jacket and tie. Shortly, it was Superman who emerged from the car and every vestige of his Clark Kent disguise was neatly folded and tucked under the front seat. And it was Superman who ducked behind the car to remain unobserved when he heard two more cars approaching without headlights. Five men in dark suits emerged from the two vehicles, three of whom were toting short-muzzled sub-machine guns, probably British Stens. Superman followed them to see what they were up to. In fact, he was right behind them, still unobserved in the dark of the dimly lit street, when they cornered Lois in the alley, outside a side door to the second warehouse.

"Go ahead, see if the door is open," one of the men told Lois. Superman detected a slight German accent, skillfully concealed under a fake English accent. That was all he was waiting for to decide whose side these five were on.

Lois, seeing a gun trained on her, made a point of being noisy with the door to alert the Colts inside. One of the men grabbed her forcefully by the arm and pushed her inside ahead of them as a living shield.

Superman wanted to belt that guy first, but settled for the two at the rear and knocked their heads together just hard enough to give them both concussions. Superman crouched low to catch their falling guns in his outstretched hands, while he allowed the unconscious men to drape across his arms before they hit the ground. No one noticed him until the second agent was going inside and happened to glance back and caught sight of the yellow on Superman's chest by moonlight. That man spoke in German to his companion and Superman caught that it was instruction to stand to the side. The third agent understood and complied, leaving a clear line of sight between Superman and the barrel of the Sten in the second agent's hands. Superman was faster, though, and whipped a handgun out of his right hand and into the second agent's face hard enough to break the man's nose. Then Superman backhanded the third agent with his left hand, still holding a captured Sten. The third agent hit the back of his head against the concrete wall of the warehouse and collapsed. The way was clear to the open door and Superman went in.

The lights were off in the warehouse and moonlight barely crept through high windows on the east and west sides of the building. The remaining agent was standing with his back to a stack of crates, with one hand holding Lois in front of him and the other hand clutching a gun.

"I know you're in here!" the agent shouted. "I've got the girl! Give me the message and the girl lives."

In the dark, the agent never saw Superman coming. The agent had no idea the barrel of his gun had been pinched shut. The agent never saw the punch coming that hit him in the side, cracked a rib, and left him gasping for breath on the floor just before losing consciousness.

"It's okay, Lois. You're safe now," Superman said in his normal, non-Clark Kent-like voice.

"Oh! Superman!" Lois exclaimed in a mixture of shock and relief. "I didn't think you'd ever manage to save me this time. Where are you?"

"Right over here. And I have something I think your friends want. Lights?" Superman asked loudly.

In answer, a switch was thrown and the overhead lights blinked on. Wayne Colt was clearly visible in the middle of the warehouse, standing next to a man in a trench coat, fedora and a monocle.

"Superman?" Wayne asked. "We didn't think you were here. Have you been following Lois and Clark this whole time?"

"I have," Superman said, stepping forward in front of Lois. "They have an important mission of their own to do in Poland and I'm here to make sure they get there safely."

"Where is Clark?" Zora asked as she stepped into the middle of the room with them. "Those spies didn't hurt him, did they?"

"I'm afraid I had to do something with that," Superman said. "When he passed me, heading back into town to alert the authorities, I stopped him. But he'll come around soon."

"You were saying something about having what her friends want?" the man with the monocle suddenly prompted.

Superman produced Wayne's address book, which he had tucked in to the back of his belt. "I intercepted this off those spies who gave you trouble just outside Dover today. I'd give it to you, if you can convince me that some good will come out of you having this."

"Well, that could be difficult," the man with the monocle said, stepping forward. There was no trace of German in his accent. Indeed, Superman placed him from southern New England, unless he was a true master at disguising his voice. "There would be a lot of sensitive, classified information I might have to tell you then. Perhaps it would suffice to say that we're working for the United States, Espionage Division. I'm known by the code name Black X. We're clandestinely working to aid England prepare its defenses. That address book should contain coded instructions for me. If you trust the Colts at all, I ask that you trust me as well and let me have it."

Superman carefully read this Black X's face. He looked sincere and Superman considered himself an excellent reader of sincerity. He took a long pause to see how Black X reacted, but Black X just stood there, watching him patiently. Then Superman held out the address book to him.

"Thank you," Black X said as he took the book and hurriedly flipped through it to find the loose slip with the coded message on it. "I see…" he said as he read it. Then, looking up, Black X said, "You know, you would be a greater asset to your country as a spy than as a vigilante. Would you consider staying and helping us?"

Superman was a bit taken aback. After his battle with the National Guard last year*, he thought he had burned all his bridges to ever being accepted by the authorities. "That's…an interesting offer. And I might consider that, after I get these reporters to Poland."

*Action Comics #8, 1939

"I see. Then, godspeed to you, Superman," Black X said as the two men shook hands.

 **Next** : In _Golden Age Action Comics #8_ : Superman encounters Luthor for the first time in Action Comics #23, but Superman's European adventures don't end there. Be back next time for more on Superman's mysterious visions and, oh, just a little effort to stop the Nazi invasion of Norway we like to call "Superman vs. the Nazis"!


	4. Chapter 4

" **Superman vs. the Nazis"**

by Scott Casper

The Nazis came for Norway on April 9th and little stood in their way. Only once, at the Battle of Drøbak Sound, were the Germans frustrated, with the forces at Oscarsborg Fortress holding off the Germans long enough for the Norwegian Royal Family to escape Oslo. The Nazis recognized the strategic significance of the fortress, so they captured it intact and occupied it. But they also turned the fortress over to Hitler's new recruit from the United States - the Ultra-Humanite.

Little of this was known to Superman when he first arrived in Norway. Superman was just looking to help.

 **April 22, 1940**

 **Along the Namsen River**

 **North of Steinjker, Norway**

The British forces, a thousand men strong, were lined up in shallow trenches amongst hills where some of winter's snow still clung to the shadowy places. The British controlled roughly half of the high ground. Their mortar position on the highest hill had been taking a pounding from the Germans all morning, who seemed intent now on taking it.

The Germans, with twice the numbers of the British, were rolling out three light _Panzer_ tanks closer to the hill. Behind the tanks, mortars were being lined up for a closer shot at the British positions. The hill would be outflanked soon and the British, in this part of the country, had no tanks to confront the _Panzers_ with. Even if the British managed to avoid the tanks, the German mortars would deal with any efforts to reinforce the troops on the hill. The Germans were predicting they would take the hill in an hour.

And then Superman came.

Superman was not alone, though. Fifty Norweigian soldiers, recruited by Superman in the ruins of Steinjker, were at his back and laying cover fire for him. There was still an eighth of a mile between Superman and those tanks, but for Superman that was just one easy leap away. Superman vaulted over the ranks of the German soldiers, hunkered down in their own shallow trenches, and heard the crack of gunfire beneath him from those who managed hasty, un-aimed shots as he passed overhead. In a moment, Superman landed next to the tanks.

The _Panzers_ weighed only seven tons each; Superman began picking them up by their main guns and swinging them and throwing them like a hammer toss. Each time, he scattered Nazi troops, crushed mortars, and plowed through trenches with his seven-ton missile weapons.

Emboldened by Superman's onslaught, the British climbed out of their trenches and launched their own offensive. Superman charged straight at the Nazis. With Superman in front of them, the British hounding their flank, and some Norwegians peppering them from behind, the cowardly Nazis began to rout. Some, however, held their ground and fired on Superman.

Superman's skin was largely bulletproof, but as the range shrank between them during Superman's charge, the force carried by the bullets increased and with them the pounding impact. Superman hated getting shot, as it still hurt and left bruises. If they were firing armor-piercing rounds, it could still cut him at point blank range. Luckily, even the boldest Nazis shrank back from his ferocious charge, never getting the chance to test their weapons at such close range.

Superman slowed down, observed the battle had already shifted in favor of the Allies, and decided to find out some information. He walked over to an overturned tank, lying in the ditch where it had landed after Superman threw it. Superman stepped over the side of the tank, yanked open the hatch on top, and pulled out a trembling Nazi officer.

"Where do your orders come from?" Superman asked in German. "Who's your commanding officer?"

"My name is Erich Tappert," the Nazi officer said in fairly good English. "My rank is - ahh!"

The Nazi had stopped because Superman had lifted up the tank and was holding it menacingly over the prone body of Erich Tappert on the ground.

"Do I need to repeat my questions?" Superman asked with real menace in his voice.

"Oscarborg Fortress! Our orders come from _der_ Ultra-Humanite!"

"No…" Superman said, some of the color draining from his cheeks.

 **April 24, 1940**

 **Oscarborg Fortress**

Oscarborg Fortress was shaped like a half-circle on an oval-shaped island in the middle of the Drøbak Narrow, a slender waterway leading north to the capitol. It was inaccessible except from the sea or the air...the latter case including those who could make half-mile leaps.

Superman was on the roof of the fortress, laying flat to avoid detection, but keeping an alert ear listening for any mention of the Ultra-Humanite. He could hear quite a lot of what was being said down below and his German was quite good, having learned it before this trip to Europe. The Nazis were definitely preparing for something - but what, Superman could not say.

After an hour of this, Superman saw it. He had been watching the water for approaching boats and some cargo barges were coming up from the _Oslo-Fjorden_ \- but before them was flying a giant helicopter. To keep from being spotted from the air, Superman was forced to roll across the roof to the back wall and hang over the side. From there, he could hear the helicopter finally come in for a landing in the fortress bailey. Once more out of sight, Superman crept back across the roof for a look.

Superman scowled at the sight of Delores Winters, her attractive face framed by a hideous SS uniform, and knowing that the awful evil of the Ultra-Humanite still possessed her. Ultra was being saluted by Nazi soldiers, which made Superman hate him more than ever, if that was possible. "No escaping me this time…" Superman whispered.

Soldiers were lining up to the side of the giant helicopter in two columns and, as the bay doors slide open, began unloading crates from inside.

Superman's attention turned back to Ultra, who was being greeted by the _Kommandant_ of the fortress. From here, over the increased background noise in the fortress, Superman could barely make out snatches of what was said between them. The whole exchange was in German, which Ultra spoke fluently. The _Kommandant_ was welcoming the Ultra-Humanite, but mainly from his tone it was clear that he did not think much of Ultra. Not that Ultra cared, for he was being just as dismissive of the _Kommandant_.

"Careful with those crates!" Ultra said next. "Tomorrow … use those … next day … be wiping out the Norwegian resistance …"

" _Heil_ Hitler!" the _Kommandant_ said, to which Ultra returned an unenthusiastic salute.

Superman turned his attention to the crates. They were probably packed with Ultra's latest mad science. Though Superman had not heard every word from Ultra, it was clear the villain planned to turn his inventions loose on the Norwegian soldiers still fighting the Nazis to the north. Superman grit his teeth. He wanted to capture Ultra more than anything right then, but he knew his priority really needed to be getting rid of whatever superweapons were in those crates.

Luckily, Ultra was not the type to stay and supervise long. After a few minutes, he left that to subordinates while heading into the keep - the very building on which Superman was perched. At least it would not take him long to deal with the weapons and then, Superman thought, _I'll tear this fortress apart until I find whichever corner of it Ultra is hiding in_ …

The crates were being stacked all in one area of the bailey. With a big enough missile, Superman could smash them all at once. He just needed something big….Superman looked around for something near at hand he could throw. The roof was clear and it would draw too much attention to him too soon if he tore up a big chunk of it. Outside the fortress, though, on the docks or anchored further away were plenty of ships. The light armored cruiser would weigh thousands of tons and be way too heavy for him. Even the patrol boats were hundred of tons in weight and beyond him. But there was a small motor gunboat at the docks that was probably about 30 tons and right in his range. Superman stood up, walked to the edge of the roof, and leaped halfway across the island to where the gunboat was anchored. Superman hopped on board, grabbed the anchor chain, hopped back onto the docks, and began dragging the gunboat up onto the shore.

Although he had moved quickly, Nazi soldiers guarding the docks were just spotting him now and bringing their rifles about to fire. Superman was hoping to avoid being shot at and alerting Ultra this soon and, luckily, the soldiers took the time to shout for him to halt. In that time, Superman was able to grab the gunboat, hoist it over his head, and make threatening gestures like he would toss it at the amassed soldiers in front of him. Naturally, they scattered out of his way, some of them even dropping their rifles as they ran, and that gave Superman time to jump to the top of the fortress curtain wall with the gunboat still in his hands.

The Nazis inside the fortress were more trigger-happy than the ones at the docks and shots rang out as soon as Superman appeared atop the wall. Superman shifted the boat in his hands to block the shots, then tossed the boat downward in a spiral throw towards the stacked crates.

Whatever was in those crates proved explosive. When the gunboat fell on them, they erupted into an enormous explosion that filled half the bailey. The nearest 20 Nazis were incinerated in the blast and more were injured. The shooting stopped, as those few who were still unharmed dove for cover from the pyrotechnics.

There was no way Ultra was not aware of that, inside. Superman would leave mopping up the remaining Nazis for later. He leaped down into the bailey, right in front of the main entrance to the keep, and raced inside the stone archway. Iron-banded double doors were closed, but a minor obstacle for Superman and with one punch he knocked them both off their hinges.

There were four guards inside who stepped back in surprise as the doors burst inwards, but their rifles were in hand and ready to shoot. Superman grabbed one of the doors before it hit the ground and threw it into two of the soldiers, knocking them down, and then kicked the second door to send it flipping into the air just as the remaining two soldiers opened fire on him. The bullets chewed apart the door, but failed to hit Superman as he closed the distance behind the airborne door. As the door broke apart into fragments, Superman flicked the fragments from behind and turned them into missiles that struck one soldier and dropped him. The remaining soldier ducked and avoided the wooden missiles, but found himself lifted off his feet, the rifle batted out of his hands. He look up into the angry face of Superman - eyes squinted and teeth grit - just as Superman pushed him up against the stone wall.

"Tell me where the Ultra-Humanite went," Superman demanded in German.

"You may only haff' mine name, rank, unt' serial number…" the soldier said in badly accented English.

"I get it," Superman said, ignoring that and continuing in German. "You're under orders not to give any information if captured. You'd probably be shot if you were caught doing so." Superman punched the wall next to the soldier's head hard enough to put a crack in it. "But if you were just to glance in the direction of Ultra's lab…"

The soldier kept his mouth closed, but did a lot of glancing with his wide-open eyes.

Superman raced down a corridor, listening for anything that might give Ultra away. He avoided archways that led into a well-lit main hall, hoping to stick to the darker side passages to avoid being seen. That plan worked only as far as the next intersection, where he was spotted by a patrol of two armed Nazis. They paused in surprise for just a moment, giving Superman time to sprint forward past the hail of gunfire that erupted in the intersection right behind him.

Superman did not run further than around the corner; he figured that he would follow the path of most resistance to Ultra - even if it meant fighting every Nazi in the keep. He heard the Nazis running after them and waited until they were almost to the corner. Then Superman punched through the corner of the intersection, sending a shower of rock fragments flying like shrapnel into the two soldiers. They stopped firing and shielded their faces, giving Superman just enough time to shove them both into the opposite wall hard enough to knock them both out. Voices in the main hall were crying out in alarm, but they would not find Superman in the same place when they came to investigate.

In the tense minutes that followed, Superman was like a ghost haunted the hallways of the keep, leaving soldiers either terrified or unconscious in his wake. And always he followed every terrified glance, every backwards step, every move that betrayed the direction of Ultra's lab. Until, minutes later, Superman was crashing through the wall of a dungeon laboratory.

It was a brightly-lit room, despite the grab, stone walls and lack of windows. There were tables covered in glassware that was shattered by the shards of stone debris that came flying into the room along with Superman. Ultra, still in a SS uniform, minus gloves and hat, was holding a beaker of chemicals and looked surprised.

"Superman!" Ultra spat, Delores' voice filled with hate. Ultra threw the beaker and it broke against Superman's arm as Superman dove for Ultra. The acidic content only singed Superman's uniform.

Superman grabbed Ultra's right arm and jerked it painfully away from the holstered weapon on Delores' shapely hip. Ultra cried out in pain, but Superman ignored him and tore the holster, weapon and all, off his belt.

"You won't be using this," Superman said, and he let go of Ultra for just a moment to bend the gun barrel in the holster.

Ultra fell over backwards and landed hard on the floor. At first Superman thought it was an accident, but Ultra struck his heel hard on the floor and, as the heel broke, there was a brilliant flash of light that filled the room and the stink of burnt magnesium in the air.

It only took a second for Superman to recover his vision, but in that time, a trapdoor was opening in the floor and Ultra was sliding down into another room.

"Not again!" Superman shouted, and he jumped into the open pit right along with Ultra. They landed side-by-side in what seemed like a padded mine cart, sitting on a track in a long tunnel. The tunnel was mostly dark, with dim light bulbs spaced along it overhead every 200 feet or so.

The motorized minecart started to accelerate quickly. Superman was also quick to stand up, the motion of the car not affecting his balance at all. However, Ultra was too close to a lever for even Superman's speed to stop him from grabbing it and turning the lever.

The motorized minecart lurched to a sudden stop and, this time, Superman's forward inertia sent even him tumbling forward, off-balance. Again, he was faster to recover and was back on his feet while Ultra was just sitting up.

"No. No…" Ultra said weakly.

"Something the matter?" Superman asked. "Out of tricks, finally? I've been waiting for a long time to bring you to justice, Ultra. Now I'll wait however long it takes to see you extradited back to Cleveland, Ohio, where our conflict first started."

Ultra looked scared and trembled. He skittered backwards on the ground, not taking his eyes off of Superman, looming menacingly above him.

"You think you're so special with your mad genius and above everyone else," Superman continued, "but you'll serve time in a mundane, perfectly ordinary prison along with every other criminal."

Superman gave Ultra just a moment for that to sink in, but during that moment Ultra turned his attention away from Superman and towards the side of the tunnel.

"The dark path…" Ultra whispered.

Superman looked at the side of the tunnel, where he saw nothing but drab, chiseled stone and shadows. There was no path. Still, he was immediately reminded of the times in recent months when he had hallucinated and thought he saw a path of white or black stretched out before him.

Ultra scrambled for the side of the tunnel. Superman's instincts told him to pause and see what Ultra was up to, and perhaps he would glean some clue as to whether Ultra was having the same type of hallucination. But no sooner had Ultra touched the wall - when he disappeared completely.

Superman lunged for the spot and felt around. He crouched, stock still, and listened with all of his super-keen hearing. There was no sign that Ultra was still there, somehow cloaked from his senses. Ultra was gone, somehow whisked away from justice by this "dark path" only he had seen this time.

"But I'll find you again," Superman said. "I swear it."

 **Next:** Superman follows the white path, and where it leads will shock you! Be here next time for "The Path!"


End file.
